


Cherry Pie

by Faithhopefelony



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithhopefelony/pseuds/Faithhopefelony
Summary: Dean is a pretty well known head chef at the restaurant his family worked their asses off to make successful. When he receives a bad food review for the signature burger (of all things), he isn't too happy about it. He quickly decides to investigate this critic by the name of Castiel, and when he goes to give him a piece of his mind, he ends up giving him a piece of something much sweeter than Gabe’s famous cherry pies.





	Cherry Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Heyoo!! This is my first fic back in the game, and it just so happens to be for the Dean/Cas Tropefest 2018 Mid-Winter 5k. I had tons of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Shoutout to Jojo and Muse for making this all possible!!
> 
> ALSO I originally planned for this to be a one-shot, but if y'all want I'd be happy to add chapters. Just lemme know!! XD

“‘Their signature burger is as flavorless as the atmosphere in the malodorous Roadhouse. Their top priority should be locating a competent new chef, followed quickly by reconstructing the entire establishment, for there is absolutely nothing salvageable in the bleak edifice.’” Ellen shouted in anger. 

“What the fuck?! He has a set if he thinks he can say that kind of shit about us.” Jo passionately added. 

“That's the best goddamn burger in Chicago! And what kind of shitty name is ’Castiel’?” Dean roared. 

“Alright, alright, let's all just calm down. Obviously the guy’s a terrible critic, but what can we do about it?” Sam interjected. 

“Oh, I'm gonna give this shit a piece of my mind!” Dean yelled as he stormed off back, to Ellen's office, and a computer.

Besides the racket caused by the restaurateurs themselves, it was pretty quiet in the Roudhouse. Eleven o'clock at the edge of Chicago on an ordinary Tuesday night rarely got too rowdy. 

The restaurant still smelled mouth-wateringly, with the stove recently shut off after the final customer left with - you guessed it - the Roudhouse's signature burger, ‘Smokehouse Rodeo’. Dean wasn't a fan of the name, but after Gabe excitedly shouted it during his taste test of it, the name stuck. 

_Atmosphere?_ Dean thought, _this place has more style than your ugly ass._ The restaurant in question had a very homely feeling to it: dark wood floors, red bricked walls, and rustic decorations that had been purchased over time at any and all antique shops that Gabe had happened upon. 

Gabe loved antique shops, and buying anything that caught his eye, even if Sam wasn’t as excited. Either way, once their place was full to the brim with the old decorations, Gabe had slowly but surely started decorating the Roadhouse. He always did it secretly thinking no one knew, but nothing slips by Ellen: she just didn’t have the heart to tell Sam’s so-called angel no - and it did look good. 

Dean typed furiously as he searched for this ‘esteemed’ food critic Castiel. _More like Ass-tiel if you ask me,_ he thought, chuckling under his breath. The chuckle quickly died into a short choke after clicking on the critics’ web page, and finding a picture of the man. 

Those eyes. They reminded him of the ocean right before a storm: bright and calm, but with one strong gust they could tilt off the edge into chaos. His search was halted as he stared, completely caught off guard. 

“No. So what if the man is gorgeous? He’s still an ass”, and at the thought of an ass, Dean’s mind wandered into dangerous territory as he imagined Castiel bending over… 

His face burned up and he coughed to clear his throat (and mind), before continuing his investigation. 

“So this is the guy,” crooned Ellen as she wandered in, looking at the picture before Dean quickly scrolled down. 

“Yeah,” replied Dean, a little gruffly. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the screen, “the idiot put his personal email on the page, which means Bobby should have no problem tracking him down.” 

Bobby, the Chief Director at the Chicago Police Department, had the tools to find just about anyone. He took his job seriously, but with the boys being the closest things he and Ellen have to sons, he rarely denied them help - even if it often borderlined the illegal. 

“Alright, I guess I can give it to him at home,” Ellen laughed, as she grabbed the keys to lock up. “Time to close up, Sam and the rest already headed out.” 

Dean sighed as he shut the computer, swearing to look more into the guy when he got home. “Thanks Ellen, and say hi to Bobby.” 

“Will do - and who knows, we might finally get some grandbabies if this critic is as nice as he looks.” 

“Stop rooting for the enemy,” Dean growled as his face grew redder, and he ducked out of the room, grabbing his jacket. “See ya tomorrow.” 

_She’s kidding herself if she seriously thinks I’d ever get together with that douche after such a shitfuck of a review,_ Dean thought as he stepped outside and started making his way down the street. 

He passed the tattoo shop with a picture of the beach painted on the window, and his mind flashed to a pair of bright blue eyes. His step faltered but he quickly fell back in rhythm, with the squeaks of seagulls spilling over in crashing waves on his mind. 

In no time, Dean made it back to his apartment building, scaling the twelve floors to his place, a little more than slightly out of breath. _They better fix that elevator soon,_ he complained to himself, his keys rattling against the door as he opened it. 

He whistled as he kicked off his black boots and hung up his jacket in the entrance closet, trying to fill the empty in his apartment. Normally he wouldn’t mind the silence, but when he had a lot on his mind, it only served to magnify what was already eating at him. 

He sauntered over to the fridge, grabbing a beer and the last slice left in the homemade cherry pie Gabe had given him. Sometimes it paid to be the almost brother-in-law to a pastry chef. 

As he passed the kitchen counter on the way to the bedroom and his beckoning bed, he grabbed his laptop. He just had to look into this guy: for professional reasons, of course. 

If he was going to give this critic a piece of his mind, he figured he should know as much as he can. 

Besides, it was because of the bad review. Only the review. 

Nothing to do with those eyes. Dean had _definitely_ seen more beautiful eyes somewhere, he was sure. 

Right? 

~

Dean moaned as he slammed his hand down on the blaring alarm clock. He squinted, seeing the time. 

5:30. 

_Why did I let Sammy talk me into jogging?_

Although Dean didn’t start work until 11, he still needed to get up at this obscene hour to work around Sam’s office hours. As a paralegal who’s also finishing up his degree to be a lawyer, he often ran short on time. It was a lot of work, and Dean was so proud of him, but it didn’t provide much time for them to see each other, especially considering the time Sam had to set aside for Gabe as well. 

Groaning loudly, he sat up, finding his open laptop toppled next to him. _I must have fallen asleep during my snooping last night. Research, I mean. Definitely research._

His breath hitched as the laptop screen flashed on, leaving sleep mode. On the screen was a pair of bright blue eyes, and it took him a moment to close the laptop and break the staring contest he would inevitably lose. 

_Ironic,_ Dean thought as he got up and headed towards his closet, _for a shitty food critic, he’s pretty tasty himself._

For the amount of time Dean had been on his computer, he hadn’t gotten much information on the man: then, Dean remembered what exactly he _had_ been doing last night with the critics’ photo pulled up, and his face turned crimson. He’d need to have a quick shower before he left, and probably needed to start a load of laundry while he’s at it - his sheets and boxers especially needed a thorough cleaning. 

It wasn’t exactly what Dean had intended, but apparently, when it came to the blue-eyed stranger, his head had a mind of it’s own: and not just the one on his neck. 

_Fuck, stop it. He’s probably an asswhole. Anyone who leaves scathing reviews like that has to be._

That at least might make Dean hating him a little easier. 

And keep his bed a little cleaner. 

~ 

As Dean strolled into work at 10:53 - early, if only by seven minutes - he gave Jo a small nod as he made his way to the kitchen. Grabbing his black apron and tying it around himself, he began to prepare the food he’d need throughout the afternoon and night. 

He took his time slicing tomatoes and the other necessary toppings. The Roadhouse didn’t open until 12:00 on the weekdays, so he had plenty of time. Besides, the heaviest customer flow always came at night - especially on the weekends when they were open later, feeding the mass of Chicago drunkards. 

Thankfully, it being a Wednesday, they were only open until 10, even though it usually took another half hour of lazily cleaning up for them to be ready to go. Even with the restaurant really picking up, Ellen had barely hired any new staff, which meant all the cooking was up to Dean and Crowley. 

Normally the job wouldn’t be too difficult to manage between the two of them, but it became much more stressful with Crowley on hiatus as he visited his mother ‘across the pond’, or as Crowley liked to call it, Hell. He wasn’t very fond of his mother, and more than once had Dean heard him call her a witch, along with other much more colorful nicknames. 

“Heyoo Dean-y boy,” Ellen crooned as she walked into the kitchen. “Guess what Bobby found…” 

“Is it the certain ass-hat that I’ve been looking for?”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s your future husband!” Jo practically squealed as she came running in. Apparently, they both were much more excited than he was, and he sighed in response. 

“Jo, don’t jump to conclusions,” Ellen interjected. “...but seriously, he might be,” she added admittedly, only causing Dean to sigh even louder. 

“I don’t want to hear it you guys, you know he’s the enemy. _No fraternizing with the enemy._ ” Dean emphasized sharply. 

“Aww come on Dean, he looks perfect!”

“It’s okay Jo he’ll learn soon enough, and in no time we’ll all be laughing about this at their wedding.” 

“Get out of my kitchen!” Dean grunted as he blushed furiously and continued his preparations. 

“Haha, I’m going, I’m going…” Jo said as she backed away, holding her hands up in defeat. 

As one of the only waiters, Jo was almost always at the Roadhouse. She’d become pretty close with Dean especially, always working in a tease to him whenever she could, and usually about his rather (in)active love life. She’d tried to set him up countless times with men and women alike, sometimes tagging along with whoever she was with at the time. She’d laid off recently though, after starting to date Charlie, one of Sam’s legal friends. Charlie worked in the IT department at the firm, and they both hit it off one day when Sam brought her and some other coworkers to dinner at the Roadhouse. 

Thankfully, she had stopped trying to set Dean up after that. 

Until now. 

“If you want the info you’ll just have to call Bobby later, because I forgot it at home,” Ellen threw out as she also made her way out of the kitchen. “Let me know how you and ‘ass-hat’ get along, will ya?” She chuckled before finally leaving. 

After they left, a small smirk tugged at Dean. Although he’s not a fan of anyone meddling in his life, it was nice knowing they cared. 

The smirk quickly turned into a smile when a pair of blue eyes popped into his mind, and before long, his face was as red as the tomatoes he was cutting. 

~

“Heya Bobby, how’s it going.” Dean asked. It had taken twenty minutes of debating and pacing back and forth for Dean to finally decide to give the guy a call, after coming home from the Roadhouse. Dean knew if he didn’t call soon, Bobby would be asleep and he’d have missed his chance. 

It had nothing to do with Dean’s eagerness to meet the blue-eyed man in person. Definitely not. 

Maybe not. 

...Hopefully not? 

“What do you want this time, boy?” 

“Ellen told me you found the critic guy and I was wondering if I could grab the info from you,” Dean replied. 

“Yeah, I found the kid, gimme a sec to grab it.” 

After relaying that the guy didn’t have any office space for Dean to visit, Bobby gave him his phone number and address. It sure paid off to be friends with the CPD Chief. 

“Now don’t be thinking that I’ll go and find the stats on all the cute guys you find, Dean.”

“Fuck Bobby! It’s not like that…” Dean grumbled into the phone. 

“You’re not fooling me, boy. Ellen told me the face you made when you saw a pic of the guy, so stop lying to yourself and get Ellen the grandkids she’s been nagging me about for years. Idjit.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Bye Bobby.” 

Dean heard a grunt from Bobby before hanging up the phone, his face ablaze for not the first - and not nearly the last - time this week. 

He sighed as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, swearing as he remembered he’d eaten the last of Gabe’s pie last night. He then flopped onto the couch, turning it on the TV just in time to see _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ starting. 

Perfect timing. 

~

“Wait, you haven’t contacted the guy yet? What the Hell have you been doing then?” Asked Sam, a bit short on breath from jogging. 

It was now Friday morning, and Thursday came and passed without any action on Dean’s part. He had the info, but he felt kinda weird just calling the guy out of the blue. 

Especially with how often he’d been thinking about him. And what he’d been doing while thinking. 

“You know that I’ve been working. With the ‘King of Hell’ out visiting the witch mother, it’s been busy.” Crowley had gotten that nickname long before, for having run a very tight (and very hot) kitchen. It took a lot of time and coaxing for Dean to get him to lighten up, but even with the changes, the nickname stuck. 

“But Ellen told me you were eager to meet the guy.” 

_Really, Ellen?_ Thought Dean, the exercise exacerbating his annoyance. 

“What is it with all of you? I couldn’t care less about that ass-hat.” 

“Whatever man, just do it soon. Oh and the gangs going for drinks later, you coming?” Sam added. The ‘gang’ consisted of the brothers, Gabe, Jo and Charlie, plus anyone else who was free at the time. 

“Dude, you know I work nights,” Dean replied. 

“C’mon, you deserve a night off, I’m sure Ellen will let you go.” 

“But who’ll work the grill?” 

“Just ask.” 

“Fine, fine. But what she says goes.” Dean warned. 

“Oh, believe me I know. RACE YA TO THE DOOR!” 

And with that, both Winchesters were off, racing the last leg to their apartment building and towards the grueling twelve floor stair mountain to their apartments. 

~

“For the last time, Dean, just go. I’ll cover the grill. Have fun for once, you deserve the night off,” Ellen huffed, shoving him out. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” replied Dean. He tried to get her to say no, to let him do his job and help, but apparently Dean is the only one who thought twice about having a social life. It’s not that he didn’t want to see his friends, he did. He just felt bad leaving Ellen behind, with Jo, Crowley, and him all being out, especially on a Friday night. But she was literally pushing him out of the kitchen, and saying no to Ellen often led to a bruise or two. 

“Listen, if it gets too busy just give me a call, I’ll come on over.” 

“Thanks kid, now get lost!” Ellen laughed as she made her way over to the grill and Dean made his way out. 

He walked into his apartment and straight to his room, to change out of his hamburger-smelling t-shirt and jeans and into something less work-ish. After a quick shower and staring in his closet for 20 minutes, he settled on a pair of worn denim, a black v-neck, and his comfy red flannel. Finally stepping out and locking his door, he saw Sam and Gabe waiting in the hall. 

“Ooo, red flannel, I likey,” Gabe drew out as he winked and growled at Dean. 

“ _Please_ keep your boy-toy in check, or I might throw up,” Dean warned Sam. 

“C’mon Gabe, you might make him go in and change, and then we’ll have to wait another half hour,” Sam chuckled, winking at his boyfriend. 

“I could just go back to work instead,” Dean countered. 

“No, no, Deany, I’m sorry! What can I do to make it up to you?” Gabe shouted as he threw himself at Dean. 

“Uh, I could always use more pie…” 

“Done! One cherry pie for one fun night out on the town. Deal!” Gabe smiled, as they all made their way to the stairs, ready to start the night. 

~

“ARYA STARK IS WAY COOLER THAN DAENERYS!!” Charlie shouted at a frustrated Gabe. 

“No way!! Daenerys is literally the _Mother of Dragons_!!” Gabe countered. 

“Who cares, Arya is no one!” 

Charlie and Gabe continued their rampage as Sam looked on, a little confused and a lot infatuated with his passionate boyfriend. 

Dean swallowed down his fourth shot, slamming the empty glass down and calling for another. Typically, he sticks to two beers max on a night out, but Charlie’s insistent ‘loosen up’ comments and Gabe practically shoving the drinks down his throat, Dean had drank well over the amount he should have. 

“So Dean, how’s the critic doing? Broken any of his bones yet? Or maybe you gave him one instead…” Jo laughed as she turned to him, giving up on trying for Charlie’s attention. 

“Huh? Oh, I haven’t contacted him…” Dean slurred. 

“Well that’s a shame, why not? The guy left a shitty review, he deserves a little pounding… hey, why don’t we pay the foodie a visit?” Jo replied, swallowing down the rest of her club soda. 

“Yeah, why not! Let’s go!” Dean replied, standing and throwing his jacket on, not without a bit of swaying and maybe a little stumbling. 

“Hey, where do y’all think you’re going?” asked a hazy-eyed Gabe. 

“Nuh-uh buddy, we’re not done here!” Charlie announced before turning Gabe back to her forcefully, continuing their debate. 

With Sam and Gabe distracted by a driven Charlie, Jo and Dean stumbled out the bar and started down the street. 

“Here, gimme that. You suck with directions,” said Jo as she grabbed Dean’s phone, now queued up with the critics’ address. 

Dean barred his teeth at her, but didn’t put up much of a fight, with it being difficult enough for him trying to walk straight. 

After a good half an hour of wandering, they finally found the place. It wasn’t too far from the Roadhouse - or Dean’s apartment for that matter. 

“Alright, so now we just gotta get in,” Jo commented, eying the fire escape dangerously. 

Just ahead of them a couple stepped out of the building, and upon seeing the two of them waiting, held the door out, letting them in. “Mission accomplished,” Jo announced, as her phone own went off. 

“Aw fuck, not again. Looks like Charlie got kicked out for standing on the tables during her argument with Gabe, and kicking at the bartender who tried to get her down. I should go take care of that.” Jo said as she shoved Dean’s own phone back in his pocket, and turned towards the door. 

The inebriated Dean grabbed her arm, stopping her for a moment. “But what do I do? I thought we were gonna give this guy a piece of our heads - minds. Ya, minds.” 

“Looks like the guy’s place is at the top of the stairs, why don’t you go on without me? You can tell me everything you remember when I see you at work later,” Jo replied with a smirk before turning and leaving the building. 

_Told ya Gabe_ , Jo thought to herself. _Just gotta get him drunk. Then the fun can start._

She chuckled as she made her way back to the bar, leaving Dean to make his slow climb to the critics door. 

~ 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

No mistaking it. There was someone at Cas’ door, threatening to break it with insistent thundering knocks. 

He sighed as he stood from the couch, pausing _Orange is the New Black_ and heading barefoot to the door, ready to punch whoever decided to cause such a racket at this time of night. He wasn’t a fan of anyone interrupting his showtime, especially after he’d had a couple too many glasses of wine. 

Upon opening the door, all thoughts escaped his mind as he stared at a pair of bright emerald eyes. He didn’t have much time to stare because before long, the wobbling man started teetering forward, ready to fall face first into Cas’ living room. 

“Woah there, buddy,” Cas chuckled as he grabbed the man, whose eyes were now only inches from his own. 

He reeked of beer and whiskey, but beyond that, faintly of oak and a musky smell Cas couldn’t quite place. He was very well built, as Cas could see and feel, with the man leaning heavily on him. 

“Let’s get you to the couch, now, put some water in you, and find out who exactly you are,” Cas told the man as he practically dragged him over to the worn leather couch, before allowing him to flop down on it. 

Cas could faintly hear him mumbling obscenities and something about a burger, before he grabbed a cup of water and forced it down his throat. 

After a couple gulps, the man looked up at Cas, and he couldn’t tell if the man was embarrassed or angry, with how beet red his face was. 

“Listen dude, I don’t know who gave you the huge balls to shit on my restaurant and my food - not that I’m saying they’d be bad balls, I’m sure they’d be fine - and they’re probably not _that_ huge either - NOT that I think your pair is small - or that I’ve ever imagined your balls bu-” The man quickly cut himself off, his already red face turning crimson, “...but I’m telling you they’re both amazing. The restaurant and food I mean, not your balls.” 

“ _Alright,_ ” Cas said after a long pause, his face a little redder than usual, too, “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, but if this is about some review I wrote, you could have just emailed me a request to re-review your restaurant. My boss Chuck is all about fairness and even recommends visiting places more than once.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that…” The stranger mumbled, looking down and wringing his hands. 

“That’s okay, it was probably the first time I reviewed your place, so you wouldn’t have known,” Cas countered, gently placing his hand over the man’s, to get him to stop fidgeting. 

Cas could hear the man’s breath falter, and he realized he never even got his name. 

“So, what’s your name? I assume you already know I’m Cas.”

“Oh, uh, Dean. My name’s Dean,” the man almost whispered, staring at Cas’ hand on his, and avoiding eye contact. 

There was a couple moments of silence before Dean shot up, grunting something about a friend on a table and cherry pie. Cas stood with him, his abruptness causing Dean to stumble, knocking the both of them to the ground. 

When Cas looked up, he found the same green eyes that had been staring at him the entire short interaction now right in front of his, closer than before. His breath caught, feeling every inch of Dean’s body covering his. 

He expected the man to get up, but wasn’t upset when he didn’t. Dean just lied there, staring into Cas’ eyes, and finally glancing down at his lips. Cas’ breath caught, his thoughts running miles a minute. 

_You JUST met this guy, Cas. You might know his name, but that’s it. Not to mention, he’s completely wasted. Not to say the bottle of wine I downed earlier didn’t also fuzzy me up… but still…_

Cas continued to stare at the man, desperately thinking about how he got here, in this situation. _Oh right. I let a drunk stranger into my house, and proceeded to actually listen to him,,/i > he thought, trying to silence the part of him adding that the stranger in question was not only very attractive, but also now on top of him, and by what Cas could the feel through his pants, not too unhappy. _

__

__

Cas could continue to lie there, debating all night, or he could push the stranger off of him and kick him out. But something in him decided against either. Something itching deep inside, clawing its way out. 

“Fuck it,” Cas snarled as he grabbed the back of Dean’s head and slammed their faces together. Dean gasped in surprise, but quickly met Cas in his ferocity, deepening the kiss. 

Cas tugged at Dean’s shirt, ripping it off of his body. He sat up, allowing Dean to straddle him and rip his own shirt off as well. 

Dean gasped as Cas bit down on his neck, licking and nipping at the hollow of his collarbone. 

He purred as he bit down a little harder, finding the small crevice Dean seemed to like the most, causing his back to arch in pleasure. 

“Enough teasing,” Dean scratched back, pushing Cas on his back and dragging his jeans down his muscular thighs. 

He could see his erection clearly now through his black underwear, and if Dean wasn’t already hard, he would have been rock solid looking at the size of the thing. 

He pawed at it, making Cas gasp and buck his hips. He smiled slipping the underwear off, his massive erection now popping free in front of him. 

Dean lowered himself down, kissing the length, before licking at the tip and hearing Cas growl. Looking up into his blue eyes, Dean took him entirely at once, down to the hilt. 

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas croaked, as his hips bucked up, pushing himself farther down his throat. 

Dean started slow but quickly picked up the pace, hearing Cas’ breath hitch every time he swallowed him completely. _Fuck he’s so hot…_ Dean thought as he started to suck on the tip, Cas thrusting up to re-enter his mouth. 

Before long Cas was completely fucking Dean’s mouth, slamming himself faster and faster into the back of his throat. “I’m so close…” 

Dean hummed back, sometimes coming up to swirl his tongue around Cas’ head while holding his hips down, and hearing his breath falter every time. When Dean reached below to cradle his balls, he lost it, bucking up and filling Dean’s mouth to the brim. He happily swallowed before feeling Cas pull him up into an intense kiss, straddling him. 

Not quickly enough, Cas ripped the last of Dean’s clothes off, throwing them with the other discarded clothing. Cas took a second to wet his fingers before reaching around Dean, swirling them around his opening, demanding entrance. He started with a single finger, but quickly shoved another in, feeling Dean adjust quickly. Soon enough he was whimpering, begging for more. 

“Please, Cas, I need you,” Dean pleaded, gasping as he felt Cas remove his hand, and position himself right against his hole. 

Slowly, Cas entered him, torturing Dean, who tried to lower himself faster. Once he was entirely in, Dean began rocking his hips, panting as he felt Cas start to rock with him. 

“Fuck you feel amazing,” Cas grunted, as he angled himself, trying to find Dean’s sweet spot. When he heard him whimper and felt him clamp down tighter, he knew he’d found it, and doubled his speed. 

Dean quickened in time with Cas, gripping his shoulders harder as Cas pounded him. “So… close…” Dean breathed.

“Me too…” Cas grunted as he gripped Dean’s waist with one hand, pounding even harder as he felt him reaching the edge. With his other hand, he gripped Dean’s throbbing erection and started pumping in pace with the rest of him. 

Dean doubled over, biting into Cas’ shoulder as he came all over his chest, grunting out his name. It wasn’t long before he could feel Cas emptying himself inside, grunting himself. 

Dean collapsed next to Cas, gasping for air. 

They both lay there panting, trying to catch their breaths. After a while Cas looked over at the collapsed man next to him, only to find that he had already passed out. To be fair, Dean had been stumbling around, and he did finish twice, so he wasn’t too surprised. 

He himself felt sleep tugging at the corners of his mind, slowly darkening the room around him: but before letting it consume him, he realized Dean had never even told him the name of the restaurant he worked at. 

_If his food tastes half as good as he does,_ Cas thought, _then everyone in the city will be hearing my raving review._

Cas smiled as Dean rolled over, snuggling into his side. With a sigh, sleep overtook him, the smile never fading as the world fell away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! XD
> 
> Also, there are now italicized phrases in there because _someone_ *cough* **me** *cough* forgot they had to put in the formatting after copying and pasting...
> 
> :)


End file.
